83The sound of the gun blast caused Becca to jolt. The bristles of the paint brush jerked, ruining the delicate stroke she'd been using to draw the light-colored foal she'd seen on the river. Beau raised his mottled head and barked several times. Becca blinked at the dark, glass windows and saw only her own reflection staring back.
“Damn, stupid kids!” Walt squinted into the darkness.
“One should not call children stupid, my love.” Gaby patted his hand.
“Let's assume, then, that the drunk people with weapons are in their twenties. Can I call them stupid then?”
Gaby thought for a moment. “I guess that would be all right.” She sipped the beer from her Champagne flute.
They rocked on the swing, watching the brilliantly starred sky above the mountains. Walt wrapped an arm around her shoul
